Chianti Classico (23 page)

“Is the bathroom door open or shut?”

A crease formed between Evelina her eyes. She stared in the direction of the bathroom. “I don’t remember.”

“Is the light on?”

“Again, there’s a nightlight. I’d see that whether or not the door’s open or shut.”

“Is there a light in the passage to the nurse’s office?”

“No. During the day there are windows but not at night.”

“Grazia mentioned that the moonlight made it lighter outside.”

“Perhaps. I’m not sure if it was light or dark. I walk this every night and don’t expect extra light.” Evelina got to the office door, automatically reaching into her pocket to pull out a key.

“Stop. What’s that?” Sister Daniela put out her hand for the key and turned it over in her palm. “It’s my understanding that the key to the landing’s missing, but we
do
have one to the door to this room.”

“It’s a regular key.”

“Who else has one of these?”

“As far as I know, this is the only one, but I don’t
really
know. This one belonged to the last nurse. Sister Carmela took it directly from the nurse as she was leaving and handed it to me.”

The nun pushed it into the lock and opened the office door. The room was sunny with windows on both sides. From one, she could see La Barca’s vineyard. The other view offered the landing. After the two women entered, Sister Daniela closed the door behind them.

“Why do you need to do that?”

“I was wondering if when you locked the door someone inside could still get out. We’ll test that on the way out.” The nun faced the exterior door and turned the knob. The door opened.

“The outside door opens without a key when one goes out but automatically locks afterward.”

“So when you check this door, you must assume it’s locked.”

“Yes, but I still bolt it by turning the latch above it.”

“It’s unlatched now. Does someone do that in the morning?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes it’s open. I’ve never seen anyone come down the passage to use this office.”

“When you locked it that night, was it open?”

Evelina hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

Sister Daniela turned around to see a desk and a few tables. Equipment sat on top of them, including a microscope and scale. It was difficult for the nun to identify the other machines. They didn’t seem to be plugged in. The cords wrapped the contraptions in various loops and knots.

“How long has it been since you had a nurse?”

“More than five years, maybe seven or eight.”

“And why did the last one leave?” Sister Daniela squeezed between pieces of discarded furniture, stacked neatly in columns. She bent down to see what was under an examination table.

“Sister Carmela claimed that we didn’t need a nurse when Filari opened a clinic.”

The nun pulled on a pile of cushions under the table and tugged at a colorful object between them. “Ah, a little elephant,” she said, examining her find. “Perhaps the nurse used stuffed animals to comfort her patients.” She stood up. “I suppose no one opens this window.” She attempted to push up the pane of a nearby window.

“No. I’ve never seen that one open.”

“Go to the passage outside this door and lock the door like you usually do when you leave.”

Evelina stepped out and locked the door from the passage side.

The door opened easily when Sister Daniela turned the knob from the inside. “That answers that. If someone could enter from the landing, he could easily get inside the main house.”

Evelina traipsed back down the passage.

“Stop. You’re passing the bathroom. What do you see?”

Evelina came to a halt. “The door’s closed. Someone must be inside. I didn’t see or hear anyone go inside, though.”

“Grazia claimed to have heard you lock up. It could be Grazia.”

“I don’t know. I don’t wait. I don’t recheck the front door. I just mount the stairs and go to bed.”

“The light to the television room and the dining room are off?”

“Television room—no. Dining room—yes. I usually turn out TV-room light before I go upstairs.”

“After that do you turn on lights for the stairs?”

“No. I go up in the dark.”

“Is Grazia in bed when you get to the top?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t sleep in my room.”

“But you don’t see her at the window outside your room either.”

“No. I think I’d notice that.”

“How could you make it up the stairs in the dark?”

“I’m used to them. It doesn’t have to be light for me to make my way up.” Evelina hesitated. “Wait a minute. It isn’t dark at the top of the stairs.”

“Because there’s still a light on?”

“No. There’s moonlight bouncing off the wooden floor. There’s an empty chair by the window.”

“Do you look out the window?”

“No. There’s something else. I don’t fall asleep right away. After about an hour, I begin to doze, but I’m awakened by a noise.”

“Perhaps you hear the intruder.”

“No. I hear the scrape of the chair on the wooden floor. I start to get up, but I can’t move my feet. I hear another noise.”

“Do you think it’s Grazia opening the window?”

“No, the sound’s farther away.”

“What do you mean? You hear something elsewhere in the house?”

“Yes. I hear something downstairs or outside. I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t you awaken someone else?”

“I think I might be dreaming. I sit up and wait for another sound but don’t hear anything more. I turn over and finally go to sleep.

Sister Angela tossed and turned. Rolling onto her side, she stared at the alarm clock. The alarm was set for five-thirty, when everyone would awaken to go to prayers. At what hour did Chief Detective Pagano arrive at the station?

The fan in her window helped, but the air was still sticky. Rising, she slid a wooden chair in front of the fan to sit and think. What did she know about the Rufina region in northern Tuscany? Had she ever been there? It was just an hour or two east of Florence, wasn’t it? Nocera told Carlota he’d worked in a vineyard in Rufina. If Nocera wasn’t related to Pia, why did he remove her from the orphanage? It must have meant he’d been hired. By whom? Perhaps the family? Sister Angela shook her head.

In her mind, she went over what she and Silvio found out about the vehicle on a small dirt road not so far from the convent. Did the car come from Rufina? The little gray sedan had a dent toward the back. The driver could see the other automobile in her rearview mirror. How long had it been following her? The driver must have left the main highway to see if the pickup would exit too. She veered off at the last second and then watched in horror as the other vehicle remained behind her. Surely she thought that if she kept going straight ahead, she’d find another entrance onto the highway. But instead, the little road narrowed. Unable to turn around, she drove on, accelerating to raise dust so the vehicle would stay back. But the pickup had more power. She was an easy target. There in the field, bordered by single, stubby tree, gangly bushes, and dirt drives that led beyond the eyesight of possible witnesses, the car behind her slammed her. Once Twice. She tried to stay on the road, but the final blow spun the car around. Her head hit the steering wheel with such impact that she was nearly thrown from the seat. The culprit or culprits had no need to leave evidence. They only took the time to remove it from the car. Did they remove anything else? Did the police get DNA from the back seat? There was no evidence of a child in the car.

She sighed. Tears for the victim mixed with a sleepless night filled her eyes. Someone had suggested they exhume the young woman’s body. But what information could they glean from that? No, it would be better to follow up on Nocera and see if he and the accident were connected.

She must have fallen asleep. Sister Angela’s head snapped up when the alarm went off. Her neck cracking, she rubbed it as she stood. Why on earth hadn’t she returned to bed when she started to nod? She donned a robe. Seizing her towels and toiletry bag, she made her way down the hallway to shower.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty, but the door was open. She could hear the chant emanating from the chapel across the garden. Noticing there was no coffee or tea ready to be served, she scurried to the chapel entrance. The prayer service had already started. Slipping into a back pew, she immediately joined in.

“I’m glad you could make it, Sister,” said the prioress. “Sister Concetta left the service early to heat the rolls and brew the espresso. I hope you’ll join us.”

“Yes, please,” Sister Angela said. She felt for the red phone in her pocket. Perhaps she had a bit of time to eat before she made her phone call.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Sister Oriana, sitting down next to her at the long table.

“Yes. It’s a perfect room for me,” she said, slightly distracted. “Do you remember an automobile accident less than a kilometer across the field four years ago?”

The other faces at the table looked blank.

“I remember one on Via Veneto,” said Sister Tiberia. “Was it four years ago? I’m not sure.” She took a bite of her roll.

“It was about the time that you got the child.”

“Really?” said Mother Patrizia. “Perhaps it’s because of the child that we forgot there was some sort of accident. I really don’t recall one. Was anyone hurt?”

“Yes. The woman driving was killed.”

“Via Veneto’s a bad road,” said Sister Tiberia. “It has lots of bumps and potholes. Perhaps she lost control and ran into a fence or bush beside the road.”

“There seems to have been another vehicle involved. Of course, the police never found the second one.”

“But how can you tell if there was no sign of another vehicle?”

“The car had been hit. There was damage to her vehicle.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t see that in the papers,” said Mother Patrizia. “Perhaps Father Montez remembers the victim.”

“The police held the body for identification. Without an ID, she couldn’t be buried by the Church.”

“And you’re investigating this accident why?” asked the prioress.

“Because Pia was delivered to your doorstep a day or so later.”

The nun excused herself as soon as the conversation lulled. She retired to her cell to call the chief detective.

“Hello, Sister Angela. Have you found anything new?”

“Yes, Ricco. I’m not sure where it’s taking us, but I’m working on it. Have you let La Barca go?”

“Yes. We could’ve kept him. The murder happened at his winery, after all. But his
avvocato
convinced us that La Barca wouldn’t leave the area. Considering the value of his assets, he has too much at stake.”

“I agree. I don’t think La Barca murdered Nocera. I actually doubt he was trying to cover up the crime either.”

“Then we don’t have much.”

“Actually, I think the evidence lies in Rufina. I haven’t set up my itinerary, but I’d like to make my way there today. I want to know more about Rufina. If Nocera worked there, one of those wineries probably employed him. I’d like a list of the wineries. Can you get me that?”

“Got it. What else?”

“I’d like to talk to the senior detective in the Rufina region. Can you set that up for me?”

“That would be in Corsa Pietra. I’m afraid we have no detectives there. I can introduce you one of the agents, however. Let me call them so they can protect you.”

“I don’t need protection but would welcome information.”

“By the way, Mother Faustine from Mercy House forwarded an email from Sister Daniela’s mother superior, reminding us that your young friend must return to Montriano. If she wants her teaching position back, she’ll have to be at the school by this weekend. We’ll miss her help.”

“Ah,” Sister Angela responded. “I assume there’ll be a note waiting for me in my email too. I really must speed up the investigation.”

Sister Tiberia had a eighteen-year-old nephew, Dino, with a car. She suggested Dino drive Sister Angela and her for a winetasting tour of Rufina, less than two hours away by automobile. The nuns were on the road about fifteen minutes later.

Pagano sent the short list of wineries to Sister Angela. There were only two large ones dominating the sales of wines in the region.

“Are there no others?” asked Sister Tiberia.

“Yes,” said Sister Angela. “There are smaller ones, but if Nocera worked in the region, he probably worked for one or both of the big ones. We’ll taste wines there first. I’m worried about Dino, however. If he tastes too, we may not make it home tonight.”

Sister Tiberia smiled. “He doesn’t like wine. He won’t taste any. I did promise he could help you investigate, though.”

“Good. We may need a bodyguard.”

Dino flexed the muscle of his free arm.

Sister Angelo directed Dino up the long well-groomed drive of the first winery. “This one’s on Pagano’s list. We’ll start here. Dino and the two nuns passed the outdoor tables and went inside. A few people stood at the long counter.

“I’ll try your Chianti,” they said to the man behind the counter.

“Where are you ladies from?” he asked.

“I’m from Castel Valori and my companion is from Montriano,” Sister Tiberia said, expectantly holding up a wineglass she’d picked up from the end of counter.

“Did you know that the Rufina area’s slightly more mountainous and less gently hilly than the Classico zone?”

“Yes, and the nights are cooler,” said Sister Angela. “That causes the grapes to ripen more slowly.”

Sister Angela held up her empty glass, but the gentleman behind the counter ignored them both. “I think you’ll find that in the last thirty years, Chianti Rufina’s become richer. We consider the wines here as being serious contenders for the best Chianti in the world.”

“Prove it,” said Sister Tiberia, no longer smiling.

“We usually have guests take the tour before tasting.”

Sister Angela smiled. “Do you mind if we talk with your superior? I’m working with the State Police in Siena. While we’re waiting, we wouldn’t mind a taste of your fine wine.”

The bartender retreated to a door at the end of the bar.

Sister Tiberia leaned over the counter to see if he was returning with a bottle. “I’m not sure that’s the response I’d go for.”

In less than a minute, another man entered through the door carrying a bottle. “How do you do?” he said to the nuns, uncorking the new bottle. “My assistant said you needed to speak with me. How can I help you?”

“I have a picture of a man by the name of Alrigo Nocera. He spoke of having worked in some of the wineries here.”

“What’s the matter with him?” asked the manager, staring at the picture.

“He’s dead.”

“It doesn’t really look like him, but I know the name. I believe he worked with my family in one capacity or another over the years.” He poured each nun a taste of wine. “This is the
riserva,
our best.”

The nun took a sip. It was indeed good. She hoped he’d offer another, but saw him recork the bottle before either woman could ask. “Very nice,” she said. “I don’t understand. You know his name as having worked here but don’t know how he was employed or for how long.”